


The Coffee Cup Imp

by Truthbound



Category: South Park
Genre: (kind of), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Middle School, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Imp Clyde Donovan, Imp Tweek Tweak, M/M, Slow Burn, They're 14 now, im bad at writing romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-03-08 17:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13462914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truthbound/pseuds/Truthbound
Summary: “Clyde is dead.”In that moment, Craig felt like his whole world stopped turning.The next week Kenny appears with a mysterious book and a promise to bring Clyde back, but in a new form.When a nervous imp comes crashing down on him, Craig realizes he's really bad at summoning demons.(A story about friendship and demons, with a side of grief. Written by an aromantic asexual so friendship is a big part of this.)





	1. Death of a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is 13-14 years old, in middle school, and I stand by that Kenny McCormick is a very good kid. Chapter 2 & 3 are in the works now, so expect those soon.

 

 He can remember the exact thing he was doing when he got the phone call. He was at home, watching some rerun of Red Racer. His phone started to ring from the coffee table, and he casually reached to pick it up. 

 “Craig.” It was Token, who sounded more somber than his usual more cheery self, “Are you sitting down?”

 “Yeah. Why?” He almost chuckled. He sounded like someone had died.

 “It’s about Clyde.” He didn’t like the sound of that. 

 “What about Clyde? Is he okay?” 

 “Craig… I don’t know how to break this to you. I can barely… Craig. Clyde’s.”

 Token let out a muffled, but sharp breath from the other line. He pauses for a second, and then Craig could almost swear he heard a sniffle. 

 “Clyde is dead.”

 In that moment, Craig felt like his whole world stopped turning. 

* * *

 

**_BZZT BZZT BZZT_ **

 His alarm chirps to wake him up, but Craig didn’t sleep last night. He didn’t sleep the night before that either, and the day of the funeral, all he could do was sleep. Something felt  _ wrong _ with him. He felt like he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t think. Everything just hurts, and he can’t sleep. 

 He rolls over to the alarm clock and stares at it. Honestly, he could barely bring himself enough motivation to silence it, but he didn’t want to deal with his parents attempting to wake him up either. They would try to be emotional and  _ supportive _ . It would be disgustingly hard for him to take that right now. All he really wants to do is for everything to go back to being old and boring. He  _ needs _ life to be boring again. 

 He flops out of bed and tugs on the first pair of clothing he finds on the floor, throws on his jacket, and barely runs his hands through his hair. He shuffles past the bathroom, flipping the bird as he passed.

 He slowly creeps down the stairs and grabs his bag. For a second, he thought about getting something to eat for breakfast, but that would involve talking to his parents or his sister and he still really would rather not. 

 Craig makes his way to the bus stop, time feeling like it suddenly stopped while he waits. He could feel the seconds crawling down his back, in between each breath and each shuffle of feet. The bus arrives possibly moments later, but it could have been an eternity for all he cares. 

 He climbs on and mumbles a ‘Good morning’ to the bus driver and plops down in the first seat that he can find. It takes all of his will to not curl up into a ball and start crying. That would be so Clyde-like of him. It would just make things worse. 

 The bus rumbles on, inching down the road and slowly making its way to school and all he could think about is how his seat feels empty. There was an indent of a ghost next to him. 

  

 The bus makes it to school, dropping Craig and the other children to class. Normally, he would go to the playground just before class to hang out with his gang. But at this moment in time it felt more like it was Clyde’s gang. 

 He beelines his way to the picnic table just outside, and sits down with his two friends, Jimmy and Token. 

 “H-hey Craig! H-how yo-you doing?” Jimmy greets with a warm, friendly smile. It was almost too friendly. It felt forced, but strangely familiar. He has to respect Jimmy for trying.

 “Hello.” Token pipes in, in a extremely different tone. He sounds like he was just crying, and his cheeks look a bit puffy and his eyes a bit red. There was a small smile on his face, but it looked pained and hard for him to form. 

 “Hi.” He replies, completely nonchalant, and not like he was about to cry on the bus. Not like he spent all of last night lying awake. Not like that at all. 

 Jimmy shuffles over to him and gives him a small pat on the back. They all sit in a knowing silence as they wait for the bell to ring. It was too early for even Jimmy to bring a bit of joy to this, but God knows he tries. 

 

 The classes after that were long and tedious. They felt like repeating the same things over and over, and at points he wanted to look back for Clyde and was met with just an empty desk. 

 This part of the day just felt like hearing white noise ramble on, and a swift and harsh slap of reality every few seconds. He remains calm. He needs to remain calm through all this, but in the back of his head he can feel something staring at him. 

 So, Craig turns around to find whoever was staring, to flip that person off, or just to glare. All he finds is empty air. All it ever will be is empty air. 

 His heart is pounding, but he tries not to break his cool demeanor. The teacher drones on about something that happened in ‘The Screwtape Letters’. As if he cared what happens in an old book about things that were so frivolous. 

 

 As he was just about to calm down, the bell rings for lunch. Everyone slinks out of class and tramples each other to get to lunch. He walks out, slowly, and makes his way for his lunch table. 

 “H-Hey fellas!” Jimmy calls from the table, waving his arm and crutch a bit frantically. 

 Craig rolls his eyes, but sits down next to Jimmy. He is a bit closer than normal, and Jimmy seems to notice. He smiles as brightly as one possibly could in this situation. 

 “Where’s Token?” He asks in a hushed but nonchalant tone. 

 “Oh, h-he’s at the coun- he’s at the couns- the counselor office.” Jimmy has a knowing glimmer in his eye, “He’s been taking this really hard.” He stops for a second and thinks. 

 “Jimmy, don’t.” Oh god was he going to make a joke right now?

 “Al-almost as hard as-.” 

 Craig knows that Jimmy’s trying. But, really? Now? He suddenly finds the table very interesting and glares at it as if it made the joke instead. Jimmy frowns a bit and reaches over to pat Craig, but Craig sits up. He pushes himself out of the table, and walks outside before Jimmy can make it to him. 

 He doesn’t know where he’s going. He just walks until he finds a good space to sit alone and think. That’s what he needs. Some time to think. The cool winter winds sting on his face and he finds the place where the Goth Kids used to hang out. They don’t anymore, finding it too conformist to even hang out on school premises. 

 He leans down against the cold metal and shuts his eyes. All he wants to feel right now is the wind hitting his face. He promised himself he wouldn’t cry at school, but is this really school? Is being behind some loading dock for food that smells vaguely like cigarettes really school? 

 He seems to find that it isn’t school enough for him to slide down the smooth metal and tuck his head into his legs. He lets out a small sob. He wasn’t crying. It was just from the wind. Yeah. 

 Suddenly, he feels something warm sitting next to him. Oh God, it better not be Jimmy. He doesn’t want to apologize right now, and he doesn’t want to hear an apology either. He turns his head just enough so he can see who it is, and the plot twist of the fucking year, it’s Kenny. 

 He didn’t know Kenny could be so quiet, or so careful that he didn’t notice him sitting right next to him, but then again. Kenny does have more surprises than most people at this school. 

 “Hey dude.” Kenny says, sort of muffled from his parka. 

 “What do you want?” Craig replies, trying to sound like he wasn’t just crying. 

 “Do you remember _who_ died last Friday?” Kenny has a soft, almost curious tone in this question. 

 “Of course I do.” Craig has an incredulous look on his face, “Clyde and his mom.” 

 Kenny sighs, his breath was warm against the cool air. He leans back and looks at Craig. “Yeah. Of course.” 

“So?” Craig asks, almost aggressive but not quite. 

“It’s nothing.” Kenny looks back down at his pocket and pulls something out, “I want you to have this.” 

Kenny hands him a small book, with no title or author. It was bound in old, dusty leather and felt impossibly hot to the touch. Not unlike handling a bit of coal. No matter what, though, Craig felt like he couldn’t let go. 

“It’s nice to see someone caring about their friends after their gone. You and your group deserve this.”

“What’s this.” He asked, but it was more of a statement.

“Just follow the instructions carefully, and put Clyde’s absolute favorite thing in the center. He’ll be different, but you’ll get him back, dude.” 

Craig nods, not feeling in the mood to deal with Kenny and his friend’s shenanigans. Whenever they ask something of him, it turns out far crazier than he could have ever hoped. But something in him sparked. He got up, looked at Kenny for a second, who seemed to not be expecting anything from him in return, and just left. 

He didn’t go back to school. He didn’t go into the building. He didn’t even call his parents about him returning home. He just left. He walked home, holding the scorching hot book, and a pounding heart. He only just realized how desperate he really was. 

 

Once he got home, he made himself a pot of coffee and instantly started rummaged through his things. Clyde said he would want his friends to get all his junk. He _has_ to have something Clyde would love. Finally, he pulls out that letter jacket Clyde loves so much. He left it here the other day by accident, before he died. That had to be one of his favorite things. He needs Clyde back. He needs his best friend back. 

Craig flips through the book, and it goes to exactly the page he needs, as if it was magic. 

“How to Summon an Imp.” it reads. That seems good enough. 

It says to draw a pentagram out of red and light some candles for the ceremony. He finds right next to him some red spray paint and a few old candles by what he could only assume was fate or some divine intervention. He sets down his cup of coffee and Clyde’s jacket and gets to work. Once he most perfectly matches the picture by spraying directly onto his floor, he turns to the next step. 

It says to light the candles, and when the markings start to glow, place the item for the specific Imp. So he does just that. He is shaking with anticipation. This felt so wrong, but he needed this right now. 

As he turned to grab the jacket, he knocks over his cup of coffee. It spills onto the circle, and suddenly there was a beam of light as large as the circle he made. 

A small figure with horns and hooves steps through the light, all but it’s figure blinded by the light. 

“Craig… Craig Tucker! Nmfp, Why have you called?” That voice didn’t sound threatening. Just confused and a bit commanding, as if it was the thing’s first time doing something like this. 

It steps out of the light, but slips on the coffee spilled on the floor. It screeches, completely taken back by the slippery coffee and lands directly onto Craig in surprise.  

“AUGH! OH, JESUS CHRIST DUDE!” It screams still on top of him, and Craig knows that he totally fucked up at summoning an imp. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos mean a ton to me, but comments are even better. Please tell me what you liked, didn't or wasn't sure of. I would love to hear your thoughts! _Please_ give me your thoughts.


	2. An Imp-posing Guest

 The demon is perched on Craig’s bed, his wings stretched infront of his body like a shield, and his mouth contorted into a fanged snarl. The demon didn’t look much older than Craig was, to his surprise, and looked far more human than he expected a demon to be. 

 Sure, he had fangs, claws, and horns… and wings, hooves, and an unsettling spiked tail. But, if you discount all that and really look at him, he looked like a kid. A kid with messy, blonde hair, a bit of chub on his sides, and freckles lightly scattered all about. He looks  _ scared _ .

This child-like creature was currently on his bed, ready to pounce on him, so he didn’t really have any time to give any considerable thought about his appearance. As much as he looks human, he looks inhuman and the fear just couldn’t be wiped from Craig’s mind either.   

 “WHAT WAS  _ THAT?  _ JESUS CHRIST ARE YOU TRYING TO  _ KILL ME? _ ” He screeches, his voice cracking with anxiety. 

 “No!” Craig holds his hands up and slowly inches to him, showing he has no weapons on him. “No, no. It’s just coffee. I spilled coffee.” He makes sure to make eye contact with the demon, and nudges his head towards the pool of coffee now soaking into his floorboards. “Just coffee, dude.” 

 The creature lowers his wings by a fraction of an inch, craning his neck over to eye the liquid. His tail uncurls from defensively around his waist, and his lips loosen the venomous snarl just a bit. 

“Oh god,” He screeches again, “you summoned me! Oh, god. That is way too much pressure.” He removes his hands from digging into Craig’s mattress and goes straight for his hair, clawing at it frantically. 

Craig steps closer to the boy on his bed, “If it helps, I didn’t mean to summon  _ you. _ ” 

“ _ What.”  _ That did not look like it helped at all, but now his other hand is digging into his fur, and he starts to noticeably shake, “What the  _ fuck _ .”

“I,” Craig coughs trying to keep cool, “I was intending to summon Clyde Donovan.” 

The demon cocks its head, as if that name alone just calmed him down, “The… new guy?”

Now it was Craig’s turn to say “ _ What _ .”

The demon crawls down from the bed in a feline manner, stretching his arms and fully extending his body to the floor, his wings protruding as if he were to flee, and his tail curled around his legs. He slips down to the ground, and leans his back against the bedding. 

“Satan, ack, sometimes takes souls who were going to go to hell for, jesus I don’t know, ‘unfair’ reasons and gives them jobs as demons and imps.” He explains, looking up as if he was reminiscing with a small smile on his face. 

“And?” Craig kneels down closer to the other.

“And uh, Donovan was stationed in Purgatory with the other imps just a while back.” 

Craig folds his hands together, and crosses his legs next to the kid. 

“Oh.” That’s all he could say. 

Craig nods, finding his thumbs very interesting all of the sudden. The imp extends his hands as if he were going to pat him, but his fingers curl half way and his hand rescinds. He just goes down and stares at his fur, in an awkward silence. 

Craig clears his throat, “So, um, could you go back and get him?” 

“I dunno man! I’ve never done this before. Eek.” He pauses, and a relieved look brushes his face, “No one summons imps anymore.”

“What about all those possessions that happen.” Craig thinks back to that old horror movie he just saw about a demon that possessed a kid. A lot of editing magic must have gone into that, but since magic magic is real, maybe real magic did too. 

“Those are demons, man! Lot scarier than us, and a hell of a lot older. I’ve never met an imp that aged past 21.” The imp brings a claw to his lip, “M-maybe we’re Satan’s children? Makes us be young?” 

“Yeah sure, Clyde’s a big baby.” Craig says, with a confusing mix of fondness and sadness staining his words. “He could be a kid forever. So could you, I guess.”

The imp closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. His tail unweaves from his legs, and relaxes next to Craig. He exhales, instantly filling the room with warmth that rivals the crackle of fire on a cold winter day. This kid was impossibly hot, and Craig wonders if he’s just naturally hot or if it’s an imp thing. If Clyde was this warm, he’d use him as a space heater a long time ago. 

He opens his eyes again, and lazily glances over at the homemade summoning circle that Craig made. He brings one of his clawed paws to his face and starts to laugh.

“I think, since you summoned me with an object, and not by calling my name or chant, I’m bound by whatever you put in the ring.” He chuckles.

“What? All I put in there was coffee and, ohhhh.” He tilts his head against his bed. He giggles, squinting his eyes shut and covering his mouth. Together, they both sat shaking with embarrassing laughter. 

“J-hah-jesus christ! I live in a coffee cup now!” He slams his fist down, next to Craig and smiles at him. 

“Dude, it’ll be okay.” Craig replies, still grasping the insanity of this situation. 

They both look at the cup that lays lazily in the red pentagram. To Craig, it almost seems like it glows with importance. The imp must feel the same because he has his eyes fixated on it. 

“I, ack, think I have to grant you wishes now.” The imp says, still staring at the cup. 

“Yeah?” He turns his head a bit to watch the imp’s reaction. 

“Yeah, but that’s  _ way too much pressure _ . I can’t grant wishes, I barely even know how to use magic.” He flicks some fur and some sort of realization strikes him, “Oh god, what will happen? Will I die? Will Satan come and get me and make me go to He-”

“Hey,” Craig puts his hand gently on the imp’s shoulder, “How about just one wish a day as a limit? I won’t even use one everyday. Don’t stress about it, dude.”

He nods in response, and smiles. He didn’t look entirely reassured, but he didn’t shake as much, so that was a plus. 

“So, can I make my first wish?” 

The imp shrugs, his wings swaying with his shoulders. His eyes stray from the cup, moving to the empty air in between him and Craig. 

Craig takes that as a yes, “I wish that you aren’t bound to the cup.” 

The imp cackles and grins ear to ear. Now he places his hand on Craig’s shoulder, and leans his forehead on his arm. He twitches with laughter, vibrating the whole room. 

“You know I can’t do that.”

They both laugh for a bit, and Craig can only think ‘ _ Well, I tried.’ _

 

_ KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK _

“Huh-hey Craig! It’s us. We cuh-came as soon as we could.” Jimmy chimed from the other side of the door. 

The imp scrambles up the bed and hides himself in the covers. Ineffectively, but he’s an imp with huge fucking wings. Those can be particularly hard to hide in a 14 year old boy’s bedroom. 

“We’re coming in, Craig.” Token announces, as they open the door. 

Craig stands up, and leans against the jittery lump that was on his bed. He makes the most nonchalant face he can, and just looks at the two. The blankets felt almost as if they were on fire, only  _ just  _ tolerable to Craig. 

“W-w-wow, what a get up.” Jimmy cracks a smile at the pentagram and coffee spread on the floor. In retrospect, spray-painting a pentagram wasn’t a good idea in the first place, but summoning an imp of your best friend is also not a good idea. There’s no winning in this situation.

“What were you trying to do.” Token asks, but it sounds more like a command. He was more paranoid and superstitious than the others, and now Craig could see why.  

Craig doesn’t answer, he just smiles and punches the covers that is shaking way too much for there not to be someone hiding in it.  

Jimmy and Token shuffle over to the pentagram and eye it with a curious expression. Jimmy looked more comical, and Token seemed exasperated. 

“Y-yuh-you shouldn’t leave coffee on the fuh-floor like this.” Jimmy says, looking at the mess around. He adjusts his crutches to bend down and grab the coffee cup. 

The blankets begins to vibrate, and then quake, and the next think he knows, the imp clawed his way through the covers and leaps over Craig to lunge straight at Jimmy. His claws and fangs out for show.

“DON’T TOUCH THAT!” He cries when he pounces on Jimmy, ripping the cup out of his hands and uses his other hand for forming a fist, nearly about to punch him. 

Craig reacts in a second, swiftly wrapping his arms around the imp’s waist, where it wasn’t protected by his wings. The imp tenses, for a second and realizes what just happened. His fist drops. His leathery wings lower, and his hand goes to cover his mouth. He looked almost like he was about to cry.

The imp scotches backwards, spacing himself from Jimmy and whacking Craig in the face with his expressive but ultimately annoying wings. His bat-like appendages flutter in exasperation, and his tail hooks onto the floor. 

“Oh, Jesus dude. Jesus Christ!” The imp begins to rant, “I don’t, ack, know what came over me.” 

Token and Craig lock eye contact as they wait in what feels like infinity for Jimmy to react. The imp wasn’t fairing much better, as he just started to rock anxiously in Craig’s hold. 

Jimmy finally waved his hand. “D-duh-don’t worry about it. I’ll keep that in mind nuh… nuh... I’ll keep that in mind next time.” A soft, friendly smile fills the air, and Jimmy extends his other hand to the imp. 

“I’m Jimmy, and these are my puh-pals Token, and Craig.” He nudges his head back at Token, “Whuh-what’s your name?”

The imp looks startled by the question, but squeaks out a reply. “It’s Tweek.” 

“Nice to meet you, Tweek.” 

Tweek finally takes his hand and weakly shakes it, “Its nnngh nice to meet you too.” His legs quiver, accentuating the sheer fact that he has hooves and soft, curly fur instead of the smooth, ineloquent legs that humans are predestined to. 

Token folds his arms in a pissed off manner. He glares directly at Craig who was currently pinned to the bed by Tweek’s fully extended wings. Token walks forward, careful to not step in coffee or disrupt this moment Jimmy was having and clears his throat. 

“So,  _ Craig _ , when were you planning on telling us you summoned a demon.” 

“ _ IMP.” _ Tweek rushes in, and Token forced a smile, “ _ I’m an imp. _ ”

“An  _ imp _ .”

Craig pushes down Tweek’s wings, much to the surprise of Tweek, and replies. “Well, gee, it’s not like I can just go to school and say ‘hey guys, sorry for leaving in the middle of lunch. Also meet Tweek, he’s an imp from fucking Purgatory that I accidentally bound to a coffee cup.’”

Token crosses his arms further, and looks just like a mother who found out her child just fed their vegetables to the dog. Jimmy and Tweek both start to laugh at that, whacking Craig in the face with his wings  _ again _ . Craig’s lips contort into almost an amused expression, but still tugs down on Tweek’s wings. 

“S-so, Tweek, huh-how long have you been in Purgatory?” Jimmy leans against his crutch, still sitting awkwardly. 

Tweek’s tail wraps around his forearm, as he counts out on his fingers. “I gu-guess fourteen human years have passed?”

Token rolls his eyes, but remains silent. Jimmy however, smiles and continues, “O-oh? So have you ev- have you ever left puh-purgatory?” 

“No way dude! That’s way too much pressure. Hell is fucking  _ insane _ , guys. A-and all the humans us-usually summon with, augh, goat blood or dead people like I’m going to answer to that. Demons are into that shit! Not me, God no!” Tweek has a look that says that he’s seen worlds more than what Craig or his friends could ever dream of. 

“That suh-settles it! We’ll shuh-show you this world!” Jimmy lifts his crutch and motions towards the world around them, which was really just Craig’s room. 

Token in deep thought, finally addresses Tweek, “Is Clyde in heaven?” He had an unreadable expression, but the words were tinted with hope.

Tweek has an apologetic smile, “No, no. Sorry. He’s an imp, too.” 

Both Jimmy and Token froze, staring directly at Tweek. Token could have been made of stone at this point, his mouth open just a bit at the answer. 

“So, wait. Were, were imps people once?” He asksTweek, suddenly seeing some humanity in him. 

“I-I was. Uh, my-my Mom was a… uh, meth addict and I died uh, three or so days after being born. I guess, I was going to Hell for s-some reason, but Satan uh pitied me, I guess? And let me age normally until I reach 18 as long as I’m an imp forever.” 

“Does that mean most imps are just dead children?” Token asks, his entire body softening. 

“I dunno! How am I supposed to know? Oh god this is way too much pressure.” 

His tail uncurls, resting now on top of his legs twitching. Token bends down to Tweek, and places a hand on his shoulder, and uses the other to brush his tangled hair out of his eyes. 

“It’s okay. I understand.” Tweek continues to shake, but Token smiles, “Tweek, how about we go out and find you some clothing,” He pauses again, “because you’re naked, dude.” 

“Oh, oh yeah.” Tweek squeezes his legs together in embarrassment, and his cheeks flush. 

“H-hey buddy, don’t worry. I’ve suh-seen everyone’s weiner at least once. It’s no big deal.” Jimmy tries to add, but that just makes both Craig and Token blush as well. 

Finally, Craig feels like there’s something he can add to the conversation. 

“Tweek, if you want you can stay in my attic.” He pats Tweek’s back, and tries to act friendly. 

“Nnnnnngh,  _ what? _ ” Tweek nearly jumps, forgetting that he pinned Craig with his wings. 

“Oh, yeah. I have some spare furniture in a guest room that we can use for you.” 

“We get it, Token. You’re rich.” Craig snorts. 

“Yeah, well, at least I am prepared to take care of the imp that  _ you _ summoned.” 

Craig opens his mouth as if he were to reply, but shuts it. Token curls his lips and pulls Tweek up. 

“Tweek, I think that if we get you some baggy pants, it will hide your legs.” 

“But they don’t make pants that small but wide, I mean look at him. Not only is he short, he has fucking demon legs.” Craig points out, still sitting behind Tweek. 

“Yeah thuh-they do. C-cartman’s fuh-fat ass should have pants his size.” Jimmy retorts. 

“Then we’ll ask him for some pants.” Token says, as if that is the most obvious answer. 

“Do you really think that walking catastrophe is going to just  _ give  _ us pants? He’d want to know why, or make us pay, or somehow bring the government into this.” Craig points out, pushing against the bed to get up, and walking up to Token and Tweek. 

“What? I don’t want to go to the government! Oh jesus! That’s worse than hell!” 

Craig puts his hands on Tweek and Tokens’ shoulders, and grins. “We have to steal it from him.” 

“Wh-what about a shirt? Duh-doesn’t he need to hide his wings?” Jimmy maneuvers his crutches to join the group huddle. 

Token frowns and Craig furrows his brows. ‘ _ What about the wings?’  _ He thinks, and glances over to Tweek. His wings were rather large, but if he kept them folded up like they are now, they almost look like…

“A backpack.” Craig says, feeling as if he was the smartest man alive. 

“Oh y-yeah. We can cut out a backpack to fit over his wings, and cut a suh-slit in his shirts so h-his wings can go through.” 

“That, ack, actually sounds like it’ll work!” Tweek exclaims, “But, why do I need to hide that I’m an imp.” 

“Tweek, this town is insane. It’s better if they didn’t know that one of Satan’s minions were among us.” Token says, and Craig nodded knowingly. 

“I c-can talk to Kyle about how to b-break into Cartman’s for the pants.” Jimmy, out of these boys, had the best relationship with the obnoxious four, and sometimes still hangs out with them. Before that, Clyde would have been the easiest to ask because him and Cartman had an odd sort of friendship, but that wasn’t easy to think about right now. 

If Clyde was here, he would have loved Tweek. He loves meeting people, and probably would have appreciated Tweek’s ‘unique’ view. Clyde would have done a better job at making the situation a lot less tense, and a lot more fun. Fuck, he missed Clyde. 

But, right now, Craig was fully willing to allow himself to be distracted by some imp boy with a goat butt and wings that won't stop hitting him in the face. He’s starting to think maybe having a bit of weird will be tolerable. Things will never be the same, and maybe that’s alright. 

He just hopes Clyde’s okay right now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Chapter 3 should be out by the 26th, or earlier. Please leave kudos or a comment if you liked it! I love hearing feedback and I promise I will respond to every comment.


	3. The Imp Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now for what no one wanted!   
> Aka Clyde wants a football.

The world was spinning, flashing lights and sirens wailing in his ear. He feels light headed, and a pool of something heavy and wet was under his head. He felt like his own life was draining, and he closed his eyes.

Thump… Tha Thump… Thump…. Nothing. 

 

Clyde didn’t expect what he felt next. Instead of not existing like he always expected, he starts to fall. Correction, he starts to crash, and he doesn’t dare open his eyes. He begins to feel hotter, and hotter, until he can’t help but open his eyes. 

Fire. He looks to his left, and there’s Kenny who looks completely uninterested that he too is falling down to hell. Clyde tries to wave his arms and maneuver to Kenny, but in a flash, he finds himself seated in a velvet chair in front of a warm mahogany desk. The dissonance between it gave him whiplash. 

“What’s happening?” He asks Kenny, who is slumped in a chair, arms crossed and uninterested in the change of events. 

Kenny mumbles through his coat, “Hell.” 

“What?” Clyde was going to ask more, but a heavy stomping noise was heard. 

“I promise I’ll visit you, dude.” Kenny replies, and Clyde opens his mouth to reply. He was going to say “ _ I’m confused.” _ , but another stomp was heard, and broke his train of thought. 

“ **Clyde Donovan** .” A deep, horrifying voice bellows. 

“Y-yes, Sir?” Clyde replies. 

“Oh, wow. There's no need to call me sir, Donovan.” The owner of the voice steps forward and reveals to be none other than Prince of Darkness himself, Satan. 

“Uh, what, what should I call you then?” Clyde asks, almost as if he was treading on glass, which one could say he was because he’s sitting in the Devil’s office.

“Oh, uh… Satan, Devil, Lucifer, ~~Dad~~.” Satan rushes on the last one and maneuvers himself to lean on top of his desk in front of Clyde. 

“What was that last one?” Clyde asks, seeing Kenny roll his eyes in reaction. 

“Lucifer.” Satan says, pretending not have said a thing, “But, Donovan, I brought you here today for a very, ahem, exciting reason!” 

Clyde doesn’t reply, and somehow doubts that if it’s the Devil that addresses him, it can’t be all that exciting. 

“So, like, God sent you here for some pretty stupid reasons.” Satan picks up a file that Clyde knows is all his sins, “Lust, gluttony, being friends with Eric Cartman.”

“That wasn’t my fault.” Clyde tries to interject.

Satan blatantly ignores him and continues, “So, I looked at your life and you’re like totally cool enough to not have to burn for all eternity. I mean, you worked for a crack baby fighting ring! Pirate in somalia… Used your pool to steal a whale… Good things for your resume.” 

Satan sets down the papers and smiles, “Donovan, you are everything I would want in a s- imp.” He blurts out imp as if he was nearly about to say something else and pauses, “You have potential to be just as cool as me, and it’s a shame you died before your time.” 

Clyde furrows his brows and opens his mouth again, “Soooo, does that mean I  _ won't _ go to Hell?”

“Oh, you’re still banned from Heaven, but I can offer you a great employment opportunity.” Satan waves his hand in a circle, and glances up as if to glare directly at God. 

“I can give you a position as our newest imp of Purgatory. You’ll only age as far as you want to age, and you’ll get a sweet bod just like me.” Satan gestures to his interesting appearance with a proud smirk. 

“Purgatory is really chill, it’s got some grass n some trees and junk, and I think you’ll have fun poking at humans and stuff. I’ll just take your soul and uh, keep it to power magic stuff and then boom, you’re a dark being of Hell.” 

Clyde nods, and then glances at Kenny for support. Kenny does what Clyde assumes is a smile, and double thumbs up at him. Clyde takes it as a yes. 

“Alright...” Clyde reaches out his hand, and Satan takes it, and vigorously shakes it.

“Oh yeah, I forgot to uh mention that you’ll outlive everyone you know, and if your friends or family or shit go to Heaven, well. Ya know… You’ll never be able to see them again.” 

“Wait, what.” 

“So, yeah, uh… Let me go put you in purgatory. See you later.” Satan says, with a hint of awkwardness. Satan snapped his fingers and everything began to feel  _ hot _ . 

Clyde looks down to find a flame starting at his feet, burning into his skin and forming cloven hooves where his feet once were. The flame inches up his legs, causing a painful change in his whole anatomy. Where there was once smooth thighs is now curly brown fur. It travels up his torso, and he notices his fingernails were growing sharper, and much less flimsy, like bone. A tail sprouts from his lower back, his spine now feeling more contorted and less human. His shoulder blades feel heavy, and have a weird edge to them. He stretches and finds wings have grown there, extending like second arms. 

Finally, the flame reaches his face, and he shuts his eyes. He reaches for his forehead and finds a bony protrusion. He runs his fingers over it, and feels a pointed tip, like a worn spear. He opens his eyes, one after the other, and sees everything brighter. He doesn’t remember being able to see this clearly in the dark, or any time of day at all. 

He looks down and finds himself sitting on a particularly soft stone where his chair once was, and Kenny next to him staring as well. He observes the surroundings. He’s in a field of tall, rustling grass that goes on for as far as he can comprehend. Each blade makes a faint noise in the wind, and brushes against his legs like a kiss. Grand oak trees litter the horizon, and above him he could make out the Kingdom of God. 

The sky was a light blue, and blanketed with giant, puffy clouds of every shape. He knew that Heaven was up there, waiting in the clouds, and he could sense God himself watching down on the souls of Purgatory. He knew God couldn’t see him, not in the same way. 

The light was too bright, and it stung, but at least the clouds blocked out the light and brought beautiful shadow on this land. He frowns, and looks over at Kenny, who seems to just be watching him. 

“Is there something on my face?” Clyde asks, opening his mouth fully for the first time since the transformation. His mouth felt odd, like someone stuck a rock in his mouth. It takes a second more for it to be fully open, the large canines messing with his speech. 

Kenny starts to snicker, and Clyde rolls his eyes. Kenny pushes himself up, and ganders over to Clyde. He puts his hand on Clyde’s shoulder and points to his left, with a curious glitter in his eye. 

“Wh-” He scootches around, to look at what Kenny had his attention on, and then he saw it. 

It was a deep, cutting river that was wide enough for a fleet of ships, and longer than anything he could ever comprehend, but to be fair he didn’t spend much time on Earth thinking about understanding infinity. It was just something he had to do in graphs, jotting down ‘All Real Numbers’ not understanding what that really meant. 

The water looked like glass, flowing in perfect, eery ripples that stay for for seconds longer than it should. The whole thing was haunted by a light fog, that never extended past the basin of the river. 

The most interesting thing, however, wasn’t the river. It was what was in it. In that moment, Clyde could see a sea of hands breaking free from the waves, and crying out to be saved. The hands were just as infinite as the river, and screaming for something but the cry never escaped the water. They were grasping for the heavens, and in that moment Clyde knew he could have had it worse. He could have been one of them. 

“Yeah, that’s the River of Styx. Pretty cool, huh!” Kenny says as if he was talking about a McDonalds or an amusing pond. 

“Uhhhh, yeah sure.” Clyde replies, feeling like it’s a bit more than ‘pretty cool’. 

Kenny pulls off his hood, and shows Clyde he’s smiling. “It’s nice here, I’m glad you’re getting a second chance!” 

Clyde chuckles, “It’s hell of a lot better than burning, yeah?” 

Kenny leans on Clyde’s shoulders, “You should get to know the guys here. They’re pretty rad. Oh, wait! I know one you’d love!” 

Clyde had a blank expression, and had to swallow his innate fear of demons. He didn’t want to meet others, he just wanted to go to football practice. But the shock was still there.

“TWEEK! THERE’S A NEW GUY!” Kenny cupped his hands around his mouth and announced. 

Seconds later, a flash of yellow light burst out just above Kenny, and another very young looking imp flew out, his wings flapping faster than a hummingbird’s. 

“New guy? Like, new new?” The imp questions, staring at Kenny and completely ignoring Clyde who was standing right next to him. He was fidgety in the air, and his legs jerked involuntarily while he talked. 

“Yeah! New new! He just got the talk from Luci.” Kenny waves his hand out at Clyde, and there was a hint of joy in his eyes. Clyde couldn’t imagine why this would be a good thing, but it is better than burning in Hell. 

Tweek adverts his eyes to Clyde, looking him over carefully. He hovers a bit closer to him, and kind of giggles. “Oh MAN, oh JESUS Satan has issues.” 

Kenny laughs with him, and Clyde can’t see what is so funny about this. Satan, the ruler of the underworld apparently has issues? That doesn’t seem like what he heard on Earth. Clyde wonders if this was covered in the youth group at church. He is starting to regret skipping out on it and playing video games instead. 

“I know, right? I’ve been telling him he should just call Damien.” Kenny says as if this was just a normal conversation, and not him talking about the Devil himself to one of his imps. He continues, “If he’s that upset, he should actually apologize to him and not rope others in.” 

Tweek laughs, and instead of sounding sinister like Clyde has always imagined a demon to sound, it sounds sincere. Like a kid having a joke with his friends, talking about silly news or the teacher’s mysterious homelife. 

Clyde coughs, breaking the comfortable jokes of the two. “I’m…” He pauses, not sure how to introduce himself, “I’m Clyde Donovan?” 

Tweek drops to the ground, landing in front of him and holds out his hand. “I’m Tweek. Imp of purgatory.” 

Clyde attempts to step forward to shake it, but his he stumbles, his hand nearly making it to Tweek’s but instead falls with the rest of him to the dirt. His face hits the ground as hard as reality does. All at once, he really grasps the situation, and it is not okay. 

Clyde has decided he does not like Hell. He does not like being an Imp, he wants to see his Mom, he isn’t ready for this. He just wants to wake up to his bed and his Mom, and hear from her it is all okay and not be on the ground face first in Hell with a friendly acquaintance and a strange imp boy. He wants his mother, he needs his mother, he needs a her safe embrace telling him it’ll be okay. He’s sorry for ever leaving the toilet seat open, and drinking the milk from the carton and having dirty laundry on the floor, and never doing the dishes. All he wants is his Mom. 

So, overwhelmed with the reality of the situation, Clyde starts to cry. They are warmer that ever, scalding even, and sting as they roll off his cheek and into the ground. His wings involuntarily wrap around him, cocooning his body from the two others. He can feel them staring at him, but at this point in time he just needs to process it. 

With his wailing, he feels Tweek’s clawed hand at his hair. It was shaking, and nervous like he didn’t know what to do, but he wanted to help. He feels footsteps slamming into the ‘earth’, and a softer, more familiar hand at his back. Kenny pulls him up from the ground, and uses his free hand to support his head.

Kenny, for the first time in forever, pulls down his hood and tugs Clyde closer as Tweek squats down, patting his head as an attempt to comfort him. Kenny hugs him, and says exactly what Clyde needs to hear. 

“It’ll be okay, Clyde. You made the right choice.” He promises, his knotted mane that he calls hair pressed to Clyde’s ear. “You’re safer now, dude. You’ll see your friends again. I promise.” 

Clyde sniffs, and rubs the tears off his cheeks and tries to smile. Tweek, who was still shaking with anxiety and confusion pipes in, “Wow, Clyde. You really  _ are _ new!” 

Kenny glares at Tweek, but Clyde just starts to chuckle. “Hah, yeah… I didn’t get any practice back on Earth. Hah…” 

“It’s okay, man. A lotta us fall on our first day. It’s like learning how to walk again.” He pats Clyde’s shoulder, “You need to use your tail for balance, or else you’re gonna fall. That or fly everywhere… but that's a bit harder to get used to.” 

Clyde flicks his own long, wiry tail to stretch it. It was like having a butt snake, or at least that was the easiest way he could imagine it. It felt like a floppy arm, but was easy enough to control, like bending his back but not confined with collar bones and rib cages. But also, butt snake. 

Kenny lets go of Clyde, and places both of his hands on Clyde’s shoulders. Clyde turns to him, and Kenny smiles. “Dude, that is so cool! Plus, you get awesome wings. I’m sure you’ll be a real demon-lady killer.” He says, and from anyone else Clyde would take that as a joke, but it felt very nice. Very  _ sincere _ . Clyde suddenly wishes that he was better friends with Kenny on Earth. 

But in a blink of an eye, Kenny disappears. Clyde can only feel the faint ghost of his hands on his shoulders, and Tweek sitting next to him. He turns to Tweek, a bit confused and a bit frantic. “W… Where did Kenny go?” 

“Kenny- He does that. He’s  _ immortal,  _ nngh _ ,  _ so he went back to Earth.”

Clyde blinks. He raises his eyebrows in a way that universally means ‘are you shitting me?’. 

“It’s true! Ack! He just does that! You talk to him one minute and then next moment he’s gone!” There is a glimmer of annoyance in Tweek’s eyes, but overpowered with something that Clyde can’t quite place. Clyde had to guess it is bitter loneliness. 

“So, why is he immortal?” Clyde asks, because hell, he’d wish he knew the secret to immortality before he died too. Kenny just seems to be cooler and cooler the more he gets to know him. 

“He’s, nngh, involved in Cthulhu.” Tweek replies, as if that was a completely normal thing to say. 

“Cthulhu, like, the squid winged sea god monster?” That doesn’t seem right. He can accept that he’s in hell, but  _ Cthulhu is real? _

“Yeah, jesus dude. That Cthulhu.” Tweek dryly laughs, “Its -eek- better to not think about it. All the religions are real. You just kinda go to the afterlife that you believed in the most, I think.”

“... Can I go to Cthulhu’s realm?” 

Tweek looks at him suspiciously, “I guess? You’d have to ask Satan and get a passport and, oh Jesus the bureaucracy! It’s too much pressure man!” 

At this point, Clyde’s not questioning it. He just feels like he really should have gone to Church. The must have covered this somewhere in between gays going to hell, and the leave room for Jesus dances. (Rumor has it that Jesus really did come, and apparently did feel pretty claustrophobic the entire time. Apparently, Cartman also gave Jesus food poisoning and tried to blame Kyle). 

Tweek continues, “I knew a guy who moved from Hell to Hades. Said it’s a lot quieter there.” 

Clyde falls silent. His wings tense to his side and he just looks at Tweek. Tweek shifts his position and trembles in the awkwardness. Tweek’s tail curls around his waist, like a safety belt. 

“Do, nnng, you want to, ack, practice walking?” Tweek tries to break the awkward silence. 

Clyde nods his head, and pushes himself up off the ground. He wobbles on his almost stilt-like legs. Tweek lifts up, but uses his wings to push up, instead of his arms. His tail uncurls from his waist, and moves passively to the default position. 

Clyde stumbles again, wobbling on his legs, and waving his arms in an attempt to find balance. Tweek takes his arm, and uncermonuously pulls it over his shoulders, as a crutch for Clyde. 

“Don, nnng, novan, maybe I can show you around Purgatory while you practice.” 

Clyde sniffs and nods, leaning further on Tweek, and shakily steps forward. Tweek follows suit, and leads him to the river he saw earlier. 

“That’s the, eek, creepy ass river of Styx. It’s wild, man.” 

“Like from Greek Mythology?” Clyde questions. He feels like maybe he should have attended bible study, because he sure feels lost. 

“Satan’s trying to impress everyone. Prove that he’s cool, or something.” Tweek answers, with a face saying that it should be the most obvious thing ever. 

They wander towards it, and eventually reach the edge, staring into the glassy water. 

Tweek sighs, and kicks dirt into the river. “Some souls, I don’t know why, see it as their way to get to heaven and jump in. There’s so many souls there pulled in by their own, nngn, beliefs. Can’t get past what they think is right and just… drown for eternity.” 

Clyde looks at Tweek and sees guilt tinge in his eyes, followed by regret, and something that he still can’t place. He frowns, and peers into the water. He found he can see more than just the human bodies, he can see their soul. He can see outlines of red, blue, green, and all other colors of the rainbow and some that he can’t quite imagine. If he looked closer, he could see the entire life of each soul. He could feel every breath, every step, every beat of their hearts. He could see the sins, staining the souls with splashes of black. Clyde wonders what his soul would have looked like, if he still had one. 

He nudges Tweek out of their trance. “Hey, uh, Tweek. Do you have a soul?” He asks. 

“Do you  _ see _ one?” Tweek retorts, rolling his eyes now. 

“Oh.” And there was nothing more he could say. 

Clyde shuffles closer to Tweek, and points at the river. “That’s… sad.” 

“Dude, hah, that’s not even half! There’s some messed up things that mortals do here. They’re going to Heaven eventually! Jesus! Like, can they just chill for one second?” 

“Hah, yeah!” Clyde would admit if he was in their situation he wouldn’t chill either, but Tweek doesn’t have to know that.

“Did, did you know that the same kinda people that run into the river also build giant towers to Heaven.” Tweek says, humor in his words. He pulls Clyde around, leading him away from the river, and towards the vast fields of golden grass. 

“What, really?” The more he learns, the more confused he gets. 

“Yeah, they like. Build higher and higher, trying up there.” They both gaze to the sky, the Kingdom of Heaven glaring down at them. It  _ hurt _ to see it. The light was too bright, and it’s burning Clyde’s retinas. 

“Well, it is just like, right there, so why can’t they build up?” 

Tweek cocks an eyebrow at Clyde, and frowns. “Really? I’ve never been to Earth but I know -ack- that you can’t  _ build to the clouds with fucking bricks.” _

“Well, you don't get anywhere fucking bricks.” Clyde snickers, finally feeling a bit more like himself. 

Tweek groans. He squeezed his eyes shut and hunches over ever so slightly and begins to laugh. “Oh my  _ god _ .” He lets out in one breath, with a beautiful mix of annoyance and amusement. 

“Humans, ack, don’t mess with those dudes. Not worth it. I’ve seen the worst in, nnggh, every single  _ fucking  _ one of them. Now that you’re beyond that, just. Jesus, don’t bother with them.” Tweek advised, one of his clawed hands digging into his hair as he speaks. He twitches, scrunching one eye closed, and forming an involuntary snarl plastered on his face. Clyde decides he’s not going to mention that he was a human less than a day ago.

“Yeah, alright…” Clyde hesitated, “Do… you uh, like football?” Clyde nervously shuffled his hooves, trying to find a way to change the subject from humanity hating to something more pleasant.  

Tweek stops. His whole body, froze and there was a second where it just looked like the Tweek-mobile broke down and they needed to call a mechanic and wait 3 to 5 business days to hear back. Seconds more, Tweek seemed to reboot his system and gargled “WHAT?” fell out of his unhinged mouth. 

“Uh… You know, football. It’s like… a sport on Earth where we take-” Tweek stops him. 

“I KNOW what football is, Donovan!” Tweek hisses, still startled. 

“Oh.” He ruffles his wings awkwardly, still holding onto Tweek for support. 

“No one’s ever  _ asked _ , ack, to play football before.” He blurted, “I didn’t, oh Jesus, know what to say man!” 

Clyde remains silent, carefully watching Tweek as he shakes and sputters in a new spurt of anxiety. His wings twitch in time with the swaying of his tail. The arm that was around Clyde’s waist tightened and loosened rhythmically. 

“They won’t -nnmph-  _ have _ a football… But, we can make one.”

Clyde just nods. He doesn’t feel it necessary to mention that he has never made a football, or even knows what a football is made out of but at this point it should be better than nothing. 

Tweek snaps his fingers and with a  _ pop _ ,  Clyde found himself in a gray, drab office. There was a lone potted plant wilting in the corner next to some uncomfortable looking seats made of metal with quaint decorative cushions made of plain linen. He leaned closer and saw a green triangle with an eye stitched meticulously on top. 

At the left of the room, was a desk made of cheap metals and wood that seemed like every desk Clyde’s ever seen combined into one  _ boring _ abomination of a desk. There is no right way to make a desk, but just looking at this made him feel tired and sad. Sitting carefully on the desk was a nametag that had a name etched in some unholy dialect. He knew exactly what it said, as if it was English.  _ “Department of Animal Resources - Secretary Z’aggoraths”  _ Z’aggoraths seemed to be an average depiction of a demon. He had horns, a goatee and dark, maroon skin that looked more like scales than flesh. He wore oval glasses and was comfortably leaning on his office chair, tapping away at the computer placed to the right of his desk. 

Tweek had a look on his face that said more than any word could. He despised this place, and he despised the secretary and, most important, he despised the fact that he was willingly here. 

“Hello, -ack- Z’aggoraths.” Tweek grunted, barely looking at desk, eyes firmly planted towards the itchy and over groomed carpet. 

The demon doesn’t flinch at being addressed, not prying his eyes away from the screen.  “Mr. Tweak.” He replied. One of his slender, clawed fingers slips from the keyboard and points at Clyde, “And you must be Mr. Donovan. Welcome to Hell.” 

“Ye-” Clyde is cut off before he can say another word.

“We need leather, string and -ack- _pig’s_ _bladder_.”  Tweek demands, words rushed a bit too fast. 

“Leather? Pig’s bladder?” Z’aggoraths barely glances from his computer screen, yet a tinge of curiosity stains his voice. “Why would two  _ imps _ need  _ that? _ ”

Tweek gargles out a rushed explaination, trying to justify this demand but Clyde slides in. “We need it to make… whips!” He suggests, and Tweek instantly nods with him. 

“Oh, imps…” Z’aggoraths mutters, “You don’t have to ask the Department of Resources for whips. This is Hell, not a child’s birthday party. (Not that  _ imps _ would know the difference.)”

“Sp-special whips… that beat the sins out of the sinners.” Tweek continues, “Because aren’t pigs, like, unclean? They’d be really good to, ack, enchant.” 

The demon carefully puls his eyes from the screen and lingers for a minute at both Clyde and Tweek, who were standing there with crooked, nervous smiles. The demon sighs and reaches down under his desk, and hands Tweek a keychain. “To your left, under ‘p’. Remember to return the keys when you’re done.” 

Tweek rolls his eyes and takes the keys. He grabs Clyde by the shoulder and drags him along to a plain, boring, white office door that Clyde was sure wasn’t there a second ago. It slams open, and inside Clyde could only describe the sight as true hell for the office worker. 

There was one, straight, long hall. With doors on every inch of every wall, white and pristine. Fluorescent lights flickering, just often enough to be annoying. 

“Man, Donovan! See! I told you, this place is terrible.” Tweek twitches, rustling his wings behind him. 

Clyde nods, taking in the scent of disgustingly sterile air that matched what he thought an old floral wallpaper ought to have smelled like. This wasn’t pleasant, to say the least. 

“Clyde. If Angels are dicks -and they are-, Demons are Godzilla’s raging cloaca.” Tweek mutters, finally reaching a door that has a bold, golden P labeled on the front. He wiggles the keyring and shoves a key in the door. He twists the doorknob with an aggressive amount of force. 

“What’s a cloac-” Clyde tries to ask but was interrupted with the sound of the door breaking open. 

Inside, there was filing cabinet stacked ontop of filing cabinet. Mountains, upon mountains of gray metal containers that reached higher than any room Clyde has ever seen. There must be a lot of animals with names that start with the letter p?

Tweek doesn’t hesitate for a second, and climbs the cabinets with all the grace of a gecko trying to run up a brick wall to catch a bug. He seems to have found the metaphorical bug, and claws it open with absolutely no dignity. Tweek snatches out rolls of leather and an odd shaped organ, still covered in blood. 

He jumps down, wings spreading open to glide to the bottom. Tweek lands one hoof after the other, in a pose that resembles a ballerina landing from a successful dance. Clyde had to admire, if anything, that was the most graceful fall from a filing cabinet he has ever seen. 

Tweek half smiles. “They’ve got _ bureaucracy  _ and  _ government _ down here! Fuckin’ illumanati had to put their -nffgh- base here and MAKE A DEPARTMENT OF SHITASS RESOURCES?” 

“Heh, yeah…” Clyde says, as if he could relate. 

“This bullshit is why I don’t leave purgatory. Ever. Humans have this too! Like it isn’t enough to have to go to hell when they die, they put it on Earth! Earth for Pete’s sake!” Tweek grumbles, as they walk back out towards the door. 

“Have you, uh, gone to Earth before?” Clyde asks. 

“No one’s summoned me before, and I haven’t bothered to go through any  ‘Company Mandated Magic Lessons’ because, what if they teach me something wrong? What if I fail? Will they torture me? Oh jesus man! What if I have to  _ go through it again. _ ”

They make their way out of the office, and pass that asshole demon. He looks up from the paperwork, and looks like he is about to say something. Tweek snaps is fingers, and flames begin to engulf Clyde and himself. In the last few seconds before the flames consume all of them, Tweek flashs his middle finger at the demon. From the flames Clyde could swear he saw Tweek  _ smiling _ . 

And… They were back. “What was that about?”

Tweek smiles wider, his grin growing to a beam of happiness. “It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do…”

Clyde chuckles, “Ok, man. Well let’s get started on that football.” 

Tweek smiles at Clyde, and begins to reach down for the leather and bloody bladder he had just set down in the dirt. But, just under him Clyde saw a circle forming. The circle turned to a pentagram, and the pentagram turned to flames. It swallowed Tweek, who looked both scared and, very, very annoyed. With a flash, Tweek vanished. 

The only thing Clyde could think of was to yell "OH COME ON." 


End file.
